Unfinished.

Stories of fictionTales of factDisallowed thoughtsIncomplete actsFrom strokes of colorOn canvases of whiteTo the whispers of the windOn the rides of my lifeThe sound of feetVibrating & playing with the soundThe music I could have learnedAnother avenue to some bliss that could have been foundFor the things I could have done,For the things I can still doFor things that beckon still – not too lateI sit and listAll the things I could have made:Memories in a big bowl of timely experienceVisions to actions unhampered by conscienceMusic to make you crySong to help you describeI could have made troubleBrewing in a secret, secret placeI could have made love& given my rhymes a happy tasteI could have made time for a languagethat’ll drip from the mouth a bit wrong and misdoneI could’ve made a night of dancingAll in the name of unregrettable, thoughtless funI could have made upStories that books would tellOf earth, of heaven, of hellI could have participated inAll the games life had to offerAnd I would have passionately playedTo at last complete all the thingsIn this list that has been made.